Page 28 of What Are The Odds?
Tripp arched an eyebrow. “Why do you think?”
Grace tucked one side of hair behind her ear as she lined the ingredients up. It smelt like a candy shop in here. I was getting high off the sugar alone. When Tripp suggested they free-pour the vodka, Grace snatched the bottle from his hands and measured out the right portions. The bottle looked a lot emptier than it had in our liquor cabinet last night when Ryan took inventory. Whilst Tripp blended the ingredients, Grace removed her beanie and vest. She combed her fingers through her hair, messing it up. If I were to hazard a guess, these two had taste-tested a few batches already. Grace’s cheeks were rosy as she leant on the island in front of me.
“So, you two are friends now?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I think so. Is that weird for you?”
“Not at all.”
I liked how well Grace got along with my friends. And it was nice having a girl in our house who wasn’t here purely to, for lack of a better explanation, satisfy me or one of the guys. Tripp had warmed to Grace really quickly. So long as he didn’t try to cross the friendship line, I was cool with this. I didn’t want him scaring Grace off. Not to mention, he’d mess up the wager if he did. I doubt Ryker would accept the technicality that one of the hockey boys had still beat him to it. Music competed with the blender. Whatever was playing wasn’t as aggressive as Tripp’s normal playlist, which told me this was Grace’s doing.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“Sticky Fingers.”
“Sticky Fingers?” I parroted, arching an eyebrow.
“Head out of the gutter, Holloway.”
It hadn’t been. But it was now. After cutting off the blender, Tripp grabbed an extra glass for me. Usually I would be cautioning him, and myself, against drinking the day before a game, but I didn’t want to kill the mood.
“Cheers to this drink getting me laid,” he announced, clinking our glasses together.
Both Grace and I rolled our eyes. Maybe he wasn’t low-key trying to impress Grace if she was here to help him perfect a drink for another girl. That was a relief. This version was better. It was fruity and refreshing. But still sweet as hell.
“God, I’m good,” Tripp said.
“Hey.” Grace smacked his bare stomach. “We’re good.”
Will and Ryan walked into the kitchen. I hadn’t heard them come in over the music. Will froze in the doorway, doing a doubletake. I merely shrugged. I had no explanation for this.
“Great,” Ryan quipped. “You’re all here.”
There was one specific reason Ryan liked us all being home at the same time. I was going to need another of those drinks to get through this.
“And Hughesy’s here. Perfect. You can be our videographer, Grace. My followers have been demanding more roommate content.”
Grace frowned. “Huh?”
“He’s an influencer,” I filled in. “He has, like, 100-thousand followers or something.”
“Ugh, try two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand on Insta and another 500-thousand on TikTok,” Ryan corrected.
“Wow,” Grace quipped. “Impressive.”
“There’s a new dance and–”
“No,” Will groaned. “It’s always a dance.”
Ryan shrugged, innocently. “They bode well with my followers.”
We’d given up refusing to be in Ryan’s TikTok’s. He’d caught us all doing super embarrassing shit and used it as leverage for us to always play nice. Maybe he was calling our bluff. But with over 700-thousand people following him, I wasn’t going to risk it.
“Or we can do a red flags video.”
“Red flags?” I questioned.
“Yeah, you know, like.” He panned his phone to Tripp. “Tripp’s a ten, but he vapes in the locker room.”
